


Welcome to Silas

by RunWithWolves



Series: 25 Days of Sweetheart [4]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, written in the style of welcome to the nightvale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 00:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunWithWolves/pseuds/RunWithWolves
Summary: How many centuries of practice does it take for the vampire to become human again?Trick question.You’ll get it at the end of this story. It’s funny. Trust me. Only everyone dies and the subway had nothing to do with it despite Mr Hollis's fears of microbial infection from unsanitary turnstiles. In this story, it starts with a vampire. Well, with a girl. Well, with a girl who became a vampire who was summoned by her mother to Silas University with one very specific task in mind.The girl who was a vampire took the subway. The girl who was a human did not.





	Welcome to Silas

**Author's Note:**

> I may be in love with the strange style of the Welcome to Nightvale novel and wanted to play with it... :) This means really odd sentence construction and a hecka strong narrative voice. So that's fun.

The only reason Laura Hollis was allowed to come to Silas University was because her father thought the subway was too dangerous.

Danger is relative.

With copious research in hand on general subway danger, Mr Hollis decided that taking the subway to Silas was too fraught with danger in the form of tiny microbial nightmares that might infect Laura’s esophagus or that there was danger in turnstiles that didn’t always turn that Laura might trip over and break her leg. So, with these dangers in mind, he forbid Laura from taking the subway to either her campus visit or orientation or any day after.

All utter nonsense of course.

The subway station at SIlas University isn’t full of microbial nightmares; it’s full of harpies. Harpies looking to consume the souls of anyone lost on the metro line. The same metro line that is actually full of skeletal ghost piranhas that swim through the electric sparks with such ferocity that anyone looking to disembark the train must more quickly lest they lose a limb to ghostly teeth.

This, of course, isn’t even mentioning the sentient library controlling the security cameras or the propensity for earthquakes in the line due to the nearby angry demigod lashed to the bottom of a pit to guard the gates of hell.

Regular university stuff.

But, for all of that, the turnstiles work perfectly and no-one is breaking a leg on them. In fact, the dryads inspect them every 27.2 hours on the dot to make sure everything is humming smoothly. 

However, fearing malfunctioning turnstiles, Mr Hollis and Laura missed the subway when they first checked out the school, saw none of the underground (where everyone knows the true merit of an educational institution lies), and Laura Hollis was therefore grudgingly allowed to attend Silas University.

Provided she made the trip in a private taxi with a driver personally vetted by Mr Hollis. 

This all, of course, hardly matters to our story.

Unless you want to use it to draw some kind of metaphorical parallel to the fact that Carmilla Karnstein’s mother knew exactly what was in the subway and still insisted that her daughter take it to get to school.

She didn’t even pay the half gallon of blood metro fare for a one way ticket (admittedly a reasonable price for such a well run metro line).

In fact, Carmilla’s mother was the Dean of the university and could probably have gotten Carmilla a free ticket. But she didn’t. 

It didn’t even cross her mind.

That can be a parallel if you’d like. 

Regardless while Laura took a taxi, Carmilla was growling at the minotaur security guards trying to detach people from their directional strings and tossing handsy centaurs aside like one swats drunk frat boys.

Literally tossing them. One centaur with a tacky red visor on his head reading “Elysium or Bust” got a good 20m of airtime before landing in the ghost piranha sea. 

Perhaps it’s at this point that we should note that Carmilla Karnstein is a vampire and is therefore perfectly capable of tossing 400lb centaurs across subway systems. She’s not a human. That would be silly. Humans can’t toss centaurs like they’re frat boys. They can barely toss frat boys.

I suppose we should also mention that Laura Hollis is not a vampire. She’s human. 

There’s another parallel if you’re keeping count. 

By the time Carmilla actually reached Silas, she was not in a good mood. In fact, she was in the opposite of a good mood and as her boots stomped up the stairs out of the subway even the sentient library paused to take notice. 

Carmilla didn’t notice the security cameras zooming in on her face. These are not the kind of things that a vampire tends to notice. There are very few things that vampires tend to notice. You don’t have to notice things when you’re at the top of the food chain, 300 years old, and in the opposite of a good mood.

Humans, on the other hand, have to notice things due to their inherently squishy flesh.

So as Carmilla stalked across campus with an oversized rucksack slung over her shoulder, all the humans noticed her. Some noticed her with a prickling behind their necks as the hair rose and something in their souls screamed “run” but these were in the minority. Most of the students noticed her for other reasons. They noticed the fine cut of her jawline, the black hair tumbling over her shoulders, and the smoothness of her skin under her leather jacket. These students, with stomachs flipping and temperatures rising, had brains that screamed the exact opposite of “run”.

Humans can be so silly when their libido’s kick into gear.

Laura Hollis didn’t notice when Carmilla Karnstein came to campus. She was too busy making phone calls and desperately trying to find someone who could help her track down her missing roommate. Nobody had noticed that Betty was missing. Nobody but Laura. 

Nobody turned their head when Laura Hollis went running by, brown hair caught in the collar of her button-up and a pen shoved behind her ear as she tried to find anyone who could remember what had happened to Betty at the last frat boy party.

Not even Carmilla Karnstein noticed Laura Hollis when she went whirling by on campus. 

But there isn’t much vampires notice.

So take note when they do decide to pay attention. 

The grand double doors swung open on their own as Carmilla traipsed into the luxurious 7 story Victorian styled building that was the office of the Dean of Students and they snapped closed just as every single leaf on 3 of the campus’s maple trees turned a brilliant red simultaneously.

Silas University is beautiful in the fall. 

Dropping her bag on the floor with a clunk, Carmilla scowled at the receptionist and dropped into one of the plush chair’s outside the Dean’s office. Her thumbs tapped a beat on her bouncing knee. They made 47 beats before Carmilla froze, stopped her tapping, and reached into her back pocket to pull a paperback book out instead. Her fingers were careful on the ragged cover, turning each page gently but holding each one just tight enough to stop her fingers from twitching. 

Every third page, she’d glance up at the single closed door. 

It stayed closed.

Until it didn’t. 

“It’s about time you got here,” the Dean called from the doorway that was suddenly open, “We have much to discuss.”

Carmilla snapped to her feet, jamming the book back into her pocket before intentionally slouching her shoulders as she slunk into her mother’s office. Moving just a tad too quickly.

“You’ll forgive me if it took a few days to get back here,” Carmilla said, something like formality crept into her tone and, as much as she hated it, she couldn’t stop it, “but I was under the impression that my time this year was done. I’ve already played my part.”

“Are our parts ever truly over?” the Dean waved Carmilla into one of the stiff chairs across from her desk without looking up from the pile of papers.

A fact for which Carmilla was thankful.

The door closed behind her and she tried not to start, keeping a firm eye on the window. 

Know your exits. It hadn’t helped last time.

But that had been 150 years ago.

She eyed her mother. The thing about vampires is that there was always a tell. Carmilla’s skin was just a little too perfect, her breath a little too far apart, her teeth a touch too white. She’d never been able to find her mother’s tell. The Dean had perfect posture, her dark hair pulled back into a respectable bun as her glasses rested halfway down her nose. Her skin had sunspots on it and there was a small gap between her fourth and fifth tooth. Every breath felt like it was necessary.

If Carmilla hadn’t watched her mother through the centuries and known she was undying, Carmilla would never have thought she was a vampire.

How many centuries of practice does it take for the vampire to become human again?

Trick question.

You’ll get it at the end of this story. It’s funny. Trust me. 

“What do you need?” Carmilla went for disinterest but a touch of fear rang through, “I’d have thought Will was capable enough by now to get you the last girl you need. Mattie is expecting in Monoco within the week.”

300 years are better at making siblings than biology ever was.

The Dean wrote something down, “Your visit with Matska has been delayed. I’ve already informed her that I require your services here and as for William, well. We both know that he doesn’t have your more delicate touch.”

Carmilla’s shoulders straightened slightly. 300 years don’t change some things. “You need me to catch another girl; one who isn’t falling for Will’s frat boy routine.”

There are many horrors lurking at Silas University. Some of them demand a blood sacrifice every 20 years to keep them from ending the world. A small price to pay. A large price to pay. 

Really depended on if it was your blood or not.

The Dean inclined her head, “My understanding is that this one is more inclined to your proclivities than your brother’s. You know the routine. Befriend her. Seduce her. Whichever you prefer, just get her to trust you and have her ready for delivery when we need her then you can be your way to Matska.”

Befriend her. Seduce her. Betray her.

The familiar words had Carmilla’s stomach twisting but her face stayed blank, “You have a name for me?”

A file was passed in her general direction and Carmilla leaned forward to grab it, “Laura Hollis,” the Dean said.

And Carmilla noticed. 

She noticed the small snarl of malice in her mother’s voice; the subtle tightening of her fingers around the pen. 

Carmilla took the file, “Why her?”

“She’s been,” the Dean paused, “something of a nuisance. One of William’s marks was her roommate and the moppet has been annoyingly persistent about trying to determine where her poor missing roommate has disappeared too. As she won’t let it go, we’ll simply take her as our fourth sacrifice.” The Dean actually smiled, “A nice way to wrap up two problems at once. You’ll be posing as her new roommate.” The smile vanished as the Dean finally looked up, eyes locking on Carmilla, “Don’t let me down again, darling. I hate for us to have to repeat past punishments.”

An institution as old as Silas University had many secrets. Many horrors lurking under the facade of higher education. Without question, the Dean was the greatest of these horrors. Her apparently human eyes locked onto Carmilla and burned straight through her soul. Pools of blood lurking in her eyes.

Pools of blood that she’d once drowned Carmilla in for daring to try and defy her. To befriend and seduce but not betray. When her mother looked at Carmilla, all she could see was the light disappearing as blood rose around her chin. She could see the moment her mother closed the lid on the coffin, sealing her under the earth for decades. 

The usual sort of mother daughter punishment. 

Well, the usual sort when you raise a girl from the clutches of death, make her your high priestess, and find your gifts thrown back in your face. 

The 21st century was no place for a high priestess and Carmilla squared her shoulders, a reflexive breath coming out as she wore her leather jacket the same way the Countess Mircalla von Karnstein had once worn a corset. 

Armour.

“Don’t worry, mother,” Carmilla said, “It’ll be taken care of.”

The Dean looked away, clearly dismissing her as she turned back to her papers, “Of course it will be. We’ve learned our lesson, haven’t we, Mircalla.” No question.

Carmilla made for the door, hand on the knob of twisted metal locked in an eternal scream.

“Mircalla.”

She stopped. 

“I was thinking,” the Dean wasn’t looking up, “that perhaps this summer we could visit New York again. I haven’t been there in decades and I do recall how much you wanted to see the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I thought it might be a fitting place to visit together.”

New York. An older time. An older world. Her mother had taken her when the only way to cross the country had been on horses but vampires don’t need horses. They’d simply run. Carmilla had run faster than any human and sprinted across the fast planes, laughing as her mother flew overhead and praising her as Carmilla shifted in panther-form to sprint that much faster.

This might be the time to point out that vampires can shape-shift into animals. For Carmilla, that’s a giant black panther. 

Laura Hollis wore a lot of shirts with animal print on them. 

Take that as you will. 

But her memories of North America conjured up images of running fast and laughing her way through saloons with blood on her chin and dripping from her fangs, her mother procuring any one she asked for. It brought memories of learning to conjure fire with her mind and lighting a campfire for her and her mother, eyes wide despite her 100 years as her mother entertained with stories of millennium gone by. 

Not all memories are sour. 

Carmilla knew that no relationship was black and white. 

Laura didn’t know that yet. She’ll learn. It will hurt but that’s the price of being 21 instead of 302. That’s the price of humanity. Lessons learned quickly and falling hard and fast. 

Not all memories are sour and Carmilla finds New York a good one even as the bad ones scream in her mind. Blood and lost loves and coffins of darkness. So, hand tight on the screaming door knob, all she said was,”That would be nice.”

Then she left. A file shoved in her bag and a key labeled ‘307’ clasped in her palm. 

Laura Hollis. Her new roommate. 

A girl to befriend. To seduce. To betray.

Things are rarely that simple at Silas University.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one was weird right? I just can't decide what kind of weird.
> 
> Regardless, as I look back over the first couple of days of this latest series, I'm absolutely blown away by how supportive you've already been. Thank you for making me smile with your kudos, comments, and hellos on  
> [ my tumblr](http://ariabauer.tumblr.com/). You're all just the best.
> 
> Stay stupendous. Aria


End file.
